Christmas Spirit
by SiriusMarauderFan
Summary: Parties were loud and annoying - even more so when you have a drunken admirer. female!Remus, Wolfstar, oneshot.


**Author's Note:** Written for…

Every Wolf Deserves a Star, Wolfstar Competition. _Main Prompts:_ female!Remus, Christmas Party (setting), no names. _Bonus Prompts:_ "I…wait…what?!", define, eclipse, hug, wine

 **Christmas Spirit**

I'd never been a huge fan of parties, Christmas parties in particular. Catching up with friends was great and all, but having to mingle with strangers who'd had far too much to drink was not high on my list of favorite holiday traditions. Nor was listening to the drunken strangers singing Christmas carols off-key or getting into arguments about whether Frosty or Rudolph was better.

Thankfully the weather was still mild. No snow and barely a chill and only a week 'til Christmas. It allowed me a few moments of solitude on the patio to escape the madness of my friend's house and wonder why I ever agreed to attend these things.

I heard the sliding door open behind me and looked back, trying to hide my disappointment when _he_ sauntered outside. Seven billion people in the world and my best friend had to marry his. I was happy for them and all, but it did make it rather difficult to avoid the hotshot actor who refused to leave me be.

"Hello there, Gorgeous," he greeted, standing beside me at the railing. He smelled badly of wine and gingerbread, and the one-sided grin he was attempting only served to make him look even more drunk. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Uh huh." I was trying to inch away from him, wondering if a minute was enough time to make small talk before dashing back to the safety of the house.

"You're really pretty, you know," he went on, smoothing back his long, black hair. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Have we met before? I feel like I know you."

"I was at the wedding a few months ago," I said slowly, wondering how someone so good looking could be so dim. "I was the maid of honor, you were the best man?"

"Right!" He broke out in a large, goofy grin that strangely reminded me of my childhood dog. "You fixed my tie! We danced together!"

"You threw up on my dress."

"I … wait … what?!" Well, that seemed to sober him up a bit.

I sighed, shaking my head at him. "You got drunk, you asked me to dance, and then you threw up on my dress," I explained. He had the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I hope I didn't ruin it?"

"I don't know. I threw it out."

"I guess that makes sense. I'll buy you a new one."

I shrugged. "It's fine, I didn't like the dress anyway."

We fell into a surprisingly easy silence. It was nice of him to at least offer to pay, I thought, and then remembered that he had been on the cover of fifteen magazines over the year and probably had enough money to buy a hundred dresses without batting an eyelash.

"It's a shame, you know," he said. I looked to him, but he was staring at the sky. "I really liked you."

"'Liked?'" I asked, wondering why I even cared that he'd used the past-tense.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, you're beautiful, smart, and a great dancer. What more could a guy ask for?"

I smiled. "How do you know I'm smart?"

He looked puzzled. "You're a teacher, aren't you? I know I was pretty wasted at the wedding, but I distinctly remember you talking about your students over dinner. The dyslexic one's reading improved and the footballer got an A in History, yes?"

I was stunned. My last four boyfriends didn't care what I had for lunch never mind how my students were doing, yet a drunk I spoke with for all of fifteen minutes remembered everything two months later.

I must have been gaping, because he was smiling suddenly, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're impressed," he accused. I tried to think up an excuse. "You like me, don't you?"

"Define 'like,'" I said, trying to keep my cool.

"You do! Or did? Does my throwing up on you eclipse you liking me? I hope not."

"Do you ever shut up?" I asked, though I was smiling too.

"No. And if I did, I wouldn't have gotten to see that pretty smile of yours. Now-" He grabbed my hand, pulling me toward him. I latched onto the railing before we collided, but even then we close enough to be hugging. "They're playing Jingle Bell Rock and that happens to be my favorite song. Dance with me?"

I wanted to say no. All the "I told you so's" I would receive from my friends flooded my mind, but he was standing there smiling at me and I never stood a chance of escaping him.


End file.
